No Sense to Resist
by KBtheMD
Summary: All her will and senses may succumb to the memory of that night.  Post-kiss fic. Probably a 2 or 3-shot.   M right now for a few choice words.
1. Chapter 1

He stands before her door adjusting the weight of his backpack slung over his shoulder, wincing a little as the padded strap pinches his skin. Finally, after 2 plane changes, 4 cardboard-flavored airline meals, and 3 in-flight movies, he's made it. He crunches on the last of his mint before rapping on her door lightly, feeling the bubbles of nervousness float around his insides. _8 weeks._

It's just after 7:30. He thought about calling in advance, he knows there's a possibility that she's already left for work. Her morning routine is almost inflexible, rolling out of bed by 5:30, often before the alarm goes off. She's not a morning person, but she's just that disciplined. After a quick run or cardio workout at the gym, she showers and is out the door by 7:30 at the latest. He still wishes she hit the snooze button more often, but it became quite clear early on in their relationship that she isn't much of a cuddler in bed. He does occasionally manage to sneak in a session of steamy morning sex here and there (which takes the place of her cardio of course), but that's been a rarity and even then, he _always_ initiates it.

Despite this, he knows that they click physically. This has never been a concern for him. And it's not that she doesn't show affection; she's very dutiful in that regard. She holds his hand when they go shopping or to the park, snuggles on the couch when they watch a movie, kisses him goodbye before she leaves for work on those mornings that they actually stay the night in one another's bed. No, it's something else that nags his brain while he watches her sleep beside him. It's the substance of their relationship, how he can't sink his teeth in just yet. Like a perfect double crust pie straight from the oven; cut in too early and you'll find the warm filling running in every direction. Be patient, let it set; otherwise it's just one big flakey mess. And so, he had been patient.

To be fair, she told him up front that sharing isn't her strong suit. And true to her word, the emotional and more personal aspects of their relationship are about 5 steps behind the physical even 6 months in. They slept together long before she finally answered his question about why she became a homicide detective, _finally_ giving him an answer after the 6th or 7th date. "Because their families deserve to know the truth, no matter how sad or painful it may be. I find the truth." He remembers how he had admired her so much in that moment, had wanted to coax more out of her. But she had expertly derailed the conversation with a taunting grin. "…and, I always wanted my own set of cuffs." That was just before she used them on him.

This lack of emotional intimacy frustrated him those first few months, but slowly, _very_ slowly she had opened up and he finally felt like they were making some progress. The morning before he departed, she had told him that her mother had passed away several years ago. No mention of how. But he was okay with that, especially since she had stayed with him in bed well past the alarm, cuddling in lieu of cardio.

Communication since then has been spotty at best. Mostly some emails. He could count the number of phone calls on one hand, the number of minutes that each lasted on two. Their conversations were cordial, bordering on stiff at times. He sensed the distance in her voice when they talked and while he wanted to attribute this perception to the fuzzy connection of the long distance call, unfortunately, the warning bells still rung clear every time she ended the phone call first. And she had done just that-end every phone call first.

He sensed any progress they had made on the emotional front being wiped away each day he was gone, so he wasn't too upset when his trip had been cut short by a couple of weeks due to some funding issues. He needed to get back to her.

The last conversation they shared was nearly 2 weeks ago and she had seemed especially tired that night, the hoarseness of her voice telling him more than her words. She simply said it had been 'a particularly difficult case' that day. When he asked for details, she relayed in vague terms that she had shot several men to protect the lives of her colleagues. She avoided most of the case's specifics, but somehow he sensed, even across the thousands of miles that separated them, that she was teetering on the edge, wanting to divulge something more. He had tried to search online about the shootings, but the internet overseas had been just as erratic as their emotional connection.

He knocks on the door again, this time with more force, waiting a few seconds for any response. He sighs when there is none and starts to turn away, assuming she's already gone. But he stops suddenly as he sees a shadow move from behind the painted glass of her front door. His heart surges a little. She's there. The door swings open and he smiles at the look of shock on her face. He knows she hates surprises, but he thinks she probably won't mind it so much if _he _is the surprise.

He lets the bag slip off his shoulder to the ground, moving to gather her in his arms for an embrace before she even has a chance to take her hand off the door knob. He wraps his arms around her lifting her off the ground slightly and murmurs into her hair, still warm from the blow dryer. "God, I'm so glad to be back. I missed you."

"What… what are you doing here?" she questions. Her jaw hangs down in astonishment. She knows 'happy' should trump 'shock' in this situation, so she smiles even though he cannot see her face because that's what she's supposed to do. He's her boyfriend that's been gone for 2 months. That's what girlfriends do. Her nerves kick in then. Butterflies? No, more like hornets.

He takes a few steps inside her apartment, setting her down so he can see her face, still plastered with a smile, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

"We finished early. Financial stuff didn't play out." His fingers lift the ends of her hair and he swiftly moves them up until he has the back of her neck in his grasp. "You look so _good_. Your hair's gotten even longer," he whispers.

She knows what's coming next by the intensity of his gaze and she wonders why she's suddenly dissecting every aspect of this moment. It should be so natural; she should _want _to kiss him. But instead of feeling swept up with emotion, she feels almost indifferent. Indifferent when he presses his lips to her mouth, mumbling words of affection into her lips. Indifferent when he caresses the curve of her spine with his hand and starts to back her towards the bedroom.

She knows it's wrong to feel the way she does, she just can't help it. She focuses, willing her body to feel the passion that he so evidently does. She deepens the kiss thinking that the familiar zing will come, but instead she is met with the taste of his favorite green tea mints on her lips. He might as well stop right there because, though her body remains in his embrace, her mind has escaped and is running towards the memories of _that _night outside the warehouse, to _his _taste that lingers in her mind. Even though her eyes are closed, she tightens her lids trying to banish the unwanted visions of her partner's face, the knowledge of his taste, touch, smell, sounds that have haunted her dreams over the last 2 weeks.

Her efforts fail. The mind triumphs over her body and it is fooled for a few seconds by the memories of that stolen kiss that surge into her flesh. She unintentionally pulls his lip into her mouth and he moans in response, sliding his hand down her body, untucking one side of her shirt. Her stomach sucks in as his fingers slide around to her pant button, and her body awakens to the reality of what is happening and how fucked up this whole thing is. She pulls him closer to prevent him from getting any farther into her pants, but he's a surgeon. He's used to fitting his fingers in tight spaces, and he makes quick work of the button and zipper. She's really struggling now as her mind is bombarded with images of _his _hands, so adept at typing, and how he'd probably be just as quick, if not quicker, given the chance.

That's when she breaks away before it can go any further. She runs her hand over her hair and smoothes her shirt down, forcing a smile.

"I'm sorry, I can't right now. I need to get to work." She pulls her hair back and ties it up into a messy ponytail with the hair tie on her wrist, avoiding his eyes the whole time.

"Oh, come on. I've been gone for _2 months_. Can't you call in sick or something? I really want to spend the day with you… catching up." There's a pleading tone to his voice that they both despise.

"I really can't, I'm sorry," she says apologetically. "I was just about to head out. Maybe if you had called…But look, you've gotta be jet lagged, so why don't you go home, get some sleep and call me when you wake up. We can catch up then. " She kisses him softly, caressing his neck, because she knows she should. The hope vanishes from his eyes and part of her wants to go with it, hide away from the reality of how she feels. "I'm sorry to disappoint you."

He sighs, thinking 'isn't _that _the understatement of the century'. He knows she's already made her mind up, so there's no use arguing.

"Yea, okay. Guess I am beat." He pulls her close and feels her tense slightly, almost imperceptibly. Something is more off than usual, he just doesn't know what.

**A/N: I just couldn't help myself from writing a post-kiss fic. This is gonna be a two or three-shot only at most, cause I need to updated my other neglected stories ;) . Since we don't know Josh at all, this was kind of different and fun to write. Also felt different from my usual style, in a good way (I hope!).**

**Castle/Beckett next- should be up soon. Thanks for reading! -KB**


	2. Chapter 2

She moves past him as soon as the door to his loft opens, trying not to look at him, but failing miserably. As she briefly makes eye contact, the words she rehearsed on the ride over slide from her mind along with most of her resolve.

"Morning." She huffs out, tossing her leather jacket down on his couch. "Almost ready? I'm running late." Maybe acting all-business will help to suppress what she's feeling right now, even if only a little. She makes sure to keep her distance. She doesn't trust her body or her mind after the aborted reunion at her apartment less than an hour ago.

"Good morning to you too…" He studies her, sees her cheeks flushed, eyes flashing with emotion that he can't quite place. The closest word he can come up with is 'annoyance' and for whatever reason, he feels it's somehow directed at him.

"Okay. What could I possibly have done this early in the morning to tick you off when I've barely had time to shower and brush my teeth?" He looks at her flashing a smile, but it fades as he sees she's not smiling back. She just stares at him in his sweats and t-shirt, hair still damp from the shower. Her knuckles blanch as she paces a little in front of him. He sees her fists clenched at her sides, her eyes almost wild with a flurry of emotions. He watches as the feelings crystallize into something he still can't place… anger? No. It's something else.

"And, not that I mind, but what are you doing here anyway? I texted you last night not to bother picking me up. I've got that meeting with Paula this morning."

Silence. He's unsure if she's even listening to him. Then he notices how disheveled she appears. Hair pulled back loosely in a ponytail, shirt half untucked, mascara a little smudged. He wonders just what the hell is going on.

"Ehh, you seem a little flustered? Are you okay?" He moves towards her out of concern, wondering if something else has happened related to her mother's case. She stops her pacing and eyes him like a caged animal watches its keeper- trusting, but skittish as hell. She takes a breath realizing how ridiculous she's being.

"I'm not _flustered_. Why do you think I'm flustered?" She runs her hands over her hair, pulls out the hair tie and checks the buttons on her shirt, noticing a few more than customary are undone revealing a flash of purple lace. _How did that happen?_

He observes as she does a little once-over of her physical appearance. The closest he's seen her to this riled up was a few weeks ago when he witnessed her hoist a man twice her size into the window of the interrogation room. She was fierce, powerful, and stunningly beautiful, even in her rage. _Especially_ in her rage. He searches her face, waiting for her to continue, then cautiously approaches her side.

"What's wrong with you? Can I help?" He says it softly, tenderly and his words cause her aggravation, lust, fear to take a more uncertain tilt. For a split second, she feels like someone has a choke hold on her throat, squeezing until her eyes begin to water. She shakes herself out of it and tosses her head back, half-laughing in frustration.

She shakes her head. Her bearings are completely off now with all arrows pointing to the man beside her as the culprit. She's still at war with the fact that, in the span of just a few days, with his bouquet of flowers, his friendship and loyalty, and with that sinfully wonderful kiss, she's so wrecked that she finds it almost painful to be this near him and not touch him. Her eyes close then because she knows the truth. It wasn't just a couple of days and a fleeting kiss that's gotten her in deeper than she ever thought possible when it came to him.

"He got back this morning from Africa. Surprised me at my doorstep." She looks at him standing beside her and wonders when he got this close. Her breaths come hitched and heavy, but she relaxes her shoulders a bit, feeling better now that she's at least gotten that part out of the way. He jerks a little at her words, but recovers smoothly, hoping she doesn't notice. He's been dreading this moment, although he knows it would eventually come. This is the part where she reminds him that she is taken, not his.

Neither has uttered a word about that night since then, leaving any questions hanging in the damp air along with his little epiphany. It still ends with far too inadequate of a descriptor every time he replays the moment in his mind. _Amazing. _It was all his poor, foggy, post-bliss brain could summon at the time. Despite her lack of words, he knows the kiss was loaded with emotion and feeling for her as well. After all, fake kisses don't include feverish hands pulling at his hair, or the quickest flick of her tongue on his, and especially not the echoes of a moan that, had he not felt the vibration on his own lips, he would have dismissed as a figment of his overactive imagination. He's prayed and hoped that she would have some sort of realization; consider something more between them before her savior-of-a- boyfriend returned. As he watches her close one more button on her shirt, he feels any chance of her tossing the boyfriend aside diminish.

"Oh. Well, then. I can see why you're… in the state you're in. With your shirt and your hair, I mean. Must have been some welcome home party." He looks up at her face and for a split second despises her for evoking images of what he can only assume was an intense love-making session. But he doesn't want to reveal his jealousy, his agony. She's come here to _him _for a reason he can't quite grasp. He needs to hear her out.

She shoots him a look of shock, subconsciously tugging at her shirt as she struggles to tuck it back into her jeans. "Wait, what? No, that's not why I'm…we didn't…" Now she blushes, realizing what she's denying, what _he's_ supposing, imagining. "Just. No."

"Oh?" He wonders why she is telling him this and he leans his weight against the end of the couch next to her. The faint scent of his aftershave wafts from his skin and tickles her nose. She inhales deeply through her parted lips, the sound close to a gasp, and glances at him warily out of the corner of her eye. She _knows_ she should distance herself or things could get messy, but instead she inches a bit closer. If his arm were to brush against hers in that moment he would feel that her skin has erupted into hundreds of little pinpricks of electricity, each pulsing to the beat of her heart.

But he doesn't touch her, instead he looks. Now he can see that her eyes are a little red, the smudged mascara more evident. He wonders if she's been crying. He leans in a little, confused, studying her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He talks slowly and she can feel her hair shift as it captures his breath.

She looks up to the ceiling. The quick answer is no. She doesn't want to talk at all. She doesn't want to say it because that makes it real. It changes everything. And she hates change.

"You know something? I can't even tell him." She dips her head and grips the couch with her hands that rest by her hips. "About her."

"Can't tell him _what_ about her?" he asks cautiously.

"Anything really."

"That she's gone?"

"No, I told him that. Just left out the _murdered _part."

_And the 'obsessed-with-finding-who -hired her-killer' part. And the 'I-almost-got-shot' part. _Just those minor details.

He shifts a little next to her in astonishment, but doesn't let the surprise hit his face.

"Why can't I tell him, huh? We've been dating for over six months." She shakes her head, staring straight ahead, searching the wall for answers. He waits, readjusting himself on the arm rest and turns to face her.

"Well, it probably doesn't come up in everyday conversation. Maybe you just haven't had the right opportunity yet…" He shrugs his shoulders, spouting off lame excuses, justifying it for her. But it's just pissing her off. They both know why she can't tell him.

"Just stop, okay?" She turns to him and shakes her head in disbelief. "I mean, I told _you_ when I had only known you for a couple months. And I showed _you_ how I've worked on her case since this summer. Why could I tell you and not _him_?"

His mind reels trying to find an excuse for her, and the thought of how crazy it is that he's defending her lack of intimacy with another man crosses his mind. But he can't stop himself. He wants her to feel better, even if it's at a cost to him. He knows with her it's never been rationale, never made sense, so there's no use now in trying to make whatever they are fit into a neat little box. They could never be contained anyway.

"Well, I mean, I was always poking around, asking a lot of questions when I first started shadowing you. You probably just felt comfortable talking to me about it then because it was in the name of research. Have to find out all those details for the character…"

Little things like how her favorite color is yellow, even though she never wears it. Or how she prefers donut holes to donuts, a quirk he'll always make fun of her for. Bigger things like how she keeps a 15 year old newspaper clipping written about the New York Bar Association honoring her mother for her advocacy work in her top right desk drawer. He had come across it while looking for candy one night at the precinct just a few weeks ago. She had caught him red-handed; one hand in her Wine Gum stash, the other holding the article. He remembers how he had braced himself for a scolding for nosing around in her stuff. Instead, she had just smiled and taken a piece of candy for herself before sitting at her desk, staring at her computer, and saying, "You know, you share her lack of regard for privacy and personal space." Her lips had curved slightly in a grin before adding softly, "She would have liked you." His heart had swelled. He knows he would have liked her too.

"It's only natural that you'd share things with me, since I'm around all the time…for the _books_…"

He hates himself for adding the last part. But he doesn't think she's ready to hear what he really feels.

"_The books, _huh?" Her voice takes an almost accusatory tone. "You and I both know _that's_ a lie."

The blood rushes to his face. He's had just about enough. It's his turn now. He grabs her arm roughly and stands, dragging her up with him, holding her at arm's length as he speaks to her, the emotion raw and caustic on his tongue.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you the truth, what I _really_ think? That the reason you can't tell _him_ is because, while you might share _physical_ intimacy, you could _never_ trust him like you do _me_ with this part of you? No, with _all _of you? With your _heart_? Is that what you want me to say?" His grip tightens on her forearm, and with each question he jerks her a little closer.

His words reach out and snap at her unexpectedly. "Just forget it, okay? This was stupid, I was stupid… I need to go." She pulls at her arm, but it doesn't move. Her eyes flash to his. "Let me _go_. _Now._" When he doesn't release her, she lets the full weight of her arm rest in his grasp, his fingers crushing her to the point where he can feel the bone. She looks him dead in the eye and whispers, "Why did you do it? Why?" She drops her gaze and stares at the space between them. He knows what _it_ refers to.

She's breathing more heavily now, and he relaxes his grip on her arm as it hangs to her side, but doesn't release her completely.

"Don't blame this all on me." His voice is soft now and he gravitates towards her. He sees her eyes clench shut. "You kissed back."

She weakly tries to twist her arm from his grasp and sighs in frustration as his fingers tighten again.

"You're _hurting_ me, damn it." She glares at him now and he glares right back.

"Oh, I highly doubt that, Detective. If you wanted to, you could drop-kick my ass into next week. So please, don't tell me _I'm _hurting _you_."

Her jaw clenches, but she remains silent. He suddenly releases her, furious that after everything, _everything_ they've been through, she still can't tell him what she's feeling.

"Fine, tell me why you're here then." He moves closer to her, invading her space and getting away with it as only he can.

"I came to give you a ride to the precinct…" She inadvertently looks up and catches his expression. If looks could kill, she'd be a goner for sure. She's never seen him this way towards her. She doesn't exactly like it, but she is intrigued by his anger.

"Bullshit." He says plainly, not moving a muscle. "You're so full of it." He slides towards her, his voice softer. "Try again. Tell me the truth, _any_ truth."

He's standing right in front of her, close enough to see that an eyelash clings to her cheek.

"I did it because…I didn't want to blow our cover. They were depending on us." The tingling creeps up on her and she shifts her weight towards him. She's finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the energy and warmth she feels from being so near him.

"Half-true. But nope, not good enough." He stands his ground for a moment, but she's close now, very close, and suddenly he takes half a step back. He's not going to let her take the easy way, the physical way, out. "I'll ask you again- what made you come here?"

Her eyes flutter up and meet his for a split second as she continues to make up the distance between them, her body drifting dangerously towards his. She gives in. Her eyes look over his shoulder as she talks, her head angling close so that her words, which come between each very deliberate breath, are clear to his ears.

"I came because… I dream about it...about _you_…" Her voice drops as her mouth wanders near his cheek, her eyes looking down to see the rhythmic pulsing of the blood vessels just beneath the skin of his neck. "How you feel, how you _taste_…" Her breath is hot and pleasing against his skin, but he pulls his head back slightly, studying her eyes, repeating her words in his head.

His mouth goes dry as her cheek nuzzles against his. He remembers all too well how _she_ felt and tasted and _smelled._ Like all of his favorite things wrapped up and delivered in that kiss. Their mouths are practically touching now. He moves away slightly to speak to her, finding the sight of her desire- lips parted, breaths stacked, eyes darkened- almost more than he can bear.

"How I taste?"

She closes her eyes, leaning in blindly. Her lips hover near his mouth and she feels her body responding to it all, her legs quivering a bit in anticipation. Her hands go to his chest to steady herself.

"Mm-hmm. Like…" Her lips brush against his- wanting, testing. He resists the urge to respond, his need almost strangling him right there.

"Warm…" She kisses him with more purpose, the tip of her tongue delicately gliding along his lips, like she's tasting him for the first time. She feels his mouth parting ever so slightly.

"Tingling…" This time he can't help but respond as her fingers slide upwards, along his jaw line, angling his face so she can pull him closer, deepen the kiss. This close he smells just as she remembers, crisp and clean, like the lightly starched button-downs that he always wears. His smell collides with the flavor of...

"Cinnamon." She murmurs against his lips.

She kisses him with urgency now, wanting more, feeling him feed off her energy. His hands pull at her shirt, needing to touch her, know her. They find the sensitive skin of her lower back and trace the waist of her jeans. She finds herself wanting his fingers to travel lower and doesn't even try to silence a whimper as he tugs at her lower lip with his teeth. She bucks a little as his mouth continues, scraping down her neck, a glorious punishment for waiting this long to submit. He ends abruptly at her clavicle, pulling away, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" She searches his face, her heart humming in her ears.

He pulls away slightly hanging his head. "I'm sorry. We can't. Not like this."

He sees the hurt in her face, but he won't compromise on this. He won't share her.

"You still smell… like him."

**A/N: Whew! I'm exhausted after writing this one. Liked writing angry Castle though. Maybe a little OOC for both of them, but I'm not really going for in character with this story. They both need to show a little emotion! Anyway, let me know what you think and thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Cause I didn't say it before, Castle is not mine.  
**

He knocks on her door again for the second time in three days. All of the hopeful expectation is gone now and is instead replaced with dread. Although he hasn't spoken to her since the morning of his return, he can't stop thinking about her, about them. Where he might have gone wrong, why they struggle being with each other.

He's considered how perhaps he was wrong to have left her. They had never really had a discussion about him volunteering abroad. It had been more of a declaration on his part. But she had seemed okay with it, hadn't she? He knows she's just as focused on her career as he is after all. Maybe if he just gives her more time… But he knows her voicemail from two days ago didn't leave much room for hope.

Her words had been simple. "Stop by my place when you get off…if you have time. I think we both know we need to talk."

_If you have time. _ This qualification was tacked on with the faintest hint of bitterness that he isn't quite sure he deserves. He still feels the sting of the words when he plays the recorded message in his mind, and despite the unmistakable weariness in her voice, she is determined, decisive. That's how he knows this is it.

Now more than ever he sees that they had chosen the direction they would each take long before Africa. He knows they've been wandering along parallel but separate paths for some time. It has fooled them both. He thought that they were both wandering alone, and that if their paths would cross somehow, if they just tried hard enough, waited long enough, they would find each other again.

But as he's thought about it more and more over the last few days, he suspects she hasn't been completely alone on her journey. He's pretty certain of that in fact. He remembers how the writer had looked at him that day he visited the precinct. He had acted curious and slightly territorial. He also remembers how she speaks of _him_, frequently and with a thinly veiled intensity that reveals something deeper than simple work camaraderie.

The door swings open abruptly. She shifts uncertainly with one arm guardedly wrapped around her stomach.

"Hey. Come in."

She closes the door quietly and turns to face him. His eyes meet hers and she gives him a reflexive but subdued smile. There is the unmistakable shadow of worry in her eyes. He knows he should at least apologize for not calling her back for almost two days before the inevitable conversation about the end begins.

"Sorry I didn't get to talk with you the other night… or yesterday. Guess I've been pretty busy these last few days, huh?"

"Yeah. I've been going non-stop too," she says sitting on a barstool in the kitchen.

She's being truthful. Two stabbings in less than 72 hours. She closed both investigations easily, but her mind has been plagued with two other cases that are turning out to be the most challenging of her life. The first, a boyfriend who has been MIA despite numerous phone calls and texts, all unanswered until today. The second, also a case of avoidance. This time a partner who hasn't stepped foot in the precinct since she left him standing barefoot in the middle of his loft. Not that she expected to see him at work, but it still hurts each time she sits at her desk and he's not there. She knows he's giving her time and space, two things she has always thought she wanted from him until now.

Sleep has been evading her as well. The darkness under her eyes is indisputable evidence that the sandman has skipped her bed for the last several nights. But in a cruel twist of the universe, what little sleep she finds is filled with dreams. Although the details rapidly scatter out of reach with the buzz of her alarm, judging from how she awakens with a pillow clutched to her side in frustration and with an agreeable ache in her stomach, she knows her dreams are still made of him.

She has thought about everything to the point where nothing makes sense in her head anymore and, so, she is left with her heart. What her heart knows is that one of the men in her life is a certain loss. But the possibility of losing them _both_ is so real that she can feel it squeezing her tightly. Each time she takes a breath, this fear is like some giant snake wrapped around her ribcage, constricting each time she exhales and making it nearly impossible to breathe.

She watches as he leans against the kitchen counter. The certain loss is staring her in the face now. She knows what must be said, but she hesitates nonetheless. Certainty doesn't make this any easier.

"We can't keep doing this. It's not right for either of us to feel this way," she says softly.

"Yea, I know," he replies with regret. "It hasn't felt right for awhile now."

**\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/  
**

He focuses on the cursor- taunting him, mocking him with each flash. He hasn't seen or spoken to her in a little over a week and each second is killing him slowly. He can't write, can't think, can't sleep. Despite the fact that he feels like his heart is being slowly torn apart, he continues to try and convince himself that they made the right decision.

_They._ Odd that when he recalls their discussion after the unexpectedly short, but passionate, second kiss they shared, that he still thinks of it as a joint decision. The reality is that it had been mostly him saying the things which needed to be said. She was too hurt to put up much of a fight.

"_I don't want to do this quick and dirty. You- WE deserve more. And I can't settle for less than all of you."_

_She had laughed even with the tears in her eyes. "What the hell do you want from me? I told you, I share things with you I've never shared, not with him, not with ANYONE. How much more of me do you want?" _

He remembers how her voice had cracked, how her body had trembled. How he had wanted to hold her.

"_I want that small part of you that still doubts, that runs, that's kept you with him. That part of you that's been unsure if you could seriously be with me."_

He remembers seeing the light go on in her head, how her eyes had quickly shut, and despite her best efforts, how a few tears had still escaped. She had pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing that he was right. That there is still a part that doubts, that would have run had he allowed their physical enlightenment to continue.

She had gathered her jacket and come back to stand in front of him, searching his face.

He remembers how her eyes had never looked so green.

"_Fine. I'm not saying you're right, but maybe we should take some time… to think." _

He sees his reflection off the glossy laptop screen and closes his eyes. If he concentrates hard enough he can feel her lips as she kisses him on the cheek just before she had left. His heart breaks again as he feels her cheek, damp with tears, brushing against his. The memory steals his breath away even now.

His eyes pop open and he slams the laptop shut, snapping himself back to reality. He knows what a chance he has taken, probably the biggest of his life. With each day that's passed, the feeling that he may have lost her forever has grown like some horrible cancer inside him, slowly consuming any sense of normalcy in his life. Maybe it's as he's feared all along. She's decided he's too big of a risk, that he's not worth it.

He looks at the black screen of his phone sitting on the desk. He's surprised that he's made it this long without trying to call her, to tell her he's reconsidered, that he was stupid to question her affections. But he knows he can't force this. He can't start anything with her that's not based on truth. He's waited this long, hasn't he?

He paces a little in his office, staring at the books on his shelves, his life in fiction. He gravitates to _Heat Wave_, picking it off the shelf and flipping to the dedication. His fingers trace her initials. He remembers their earlier days and smiles at the memory of those first few cases. Her fuse had been much shorter then when it came to his antics. He knew from the beginning that his mere presence had put her on edge. His words had tested her patience; his mind had pushed her to think outside the box. But despite their rocky beginning, she had allowed him to keep coming back, case after case, day after day. Those days had grown into weeks, months and finally years by her side. They had truly become partners. He had earned her trust, and she his loyalty.

He places the book back in the shelf and pulls out the second installment in the tale of them. He forces himself to read this dedication too. His eyes focus on the last two words.

_With gratitude._

He had wanted to say so much more because she had deserved more, had meant so much more. But their timing… it had been all wrong, thrown off by one too many ex-wives and robbery detectives. He wonders if their timing will ever be right, if the stars will ever align. He flips through the book, his experiences, emotions immortalized forever on the pages. The uncertain fate of the third book is enough to cause his eyes to sting.

He closes the cover quickly, desperation finally kicking in. Screw timing and ex-wives and characters in books that are a weak substitute for life. He can't take it any longer. If she's changed her mind, fine. But he won't accept this silence as her answer. He needs to hear her words, her version of the story for himself.

He runs his hands through his hair, grabbing his phone from the desk. He reaches the front door just as a soft knock comes from the other side. He takes a step back in surprise. The doorman normally calls up to let him know about deliveries… or visitors. He dismisses the momentary quickening of his heart rate, the wonderful surge of happiness and then panic that dances through his body and finally settles in his gut.

He takes a deep breath. No, it can't be. It would be too big of a coincidence.

He opens the door and exhales as he sees her standing on the threshold, a hopeful look in her eyes. A small smile appears on both their faces.

No, it's no coincidence. For once, it's perfect timing.

* * *

**A/N: So, to continue or not? I had the next and final chapter planned, but now I'm not sure. Kind of liking it like this. I know it sorta feels like I'm leaving you hanging, but come on! You know I'm a Caskett shipper. :)**

**Maybe an epilogue… Anyway, this random stream of consciousness has been brought to you by ME! ;) **

**As always, thanks for your favorites, alerts and reviews. They mean so much. -KB**


	4. Chapter 4

He stands motionless for a few seconds, finally taking a step towards her. She's wearing yoga pants and an oversized hooded sweatshirt, appearing vulnerable and nervous. Her facial expression mirrors how he feels: At his wits' end.

Seeing her after what feels like an eternity fuels his desire to crush her body into his in an embrace, but the reality that they haven't yet resolved anything stops him from reaching for her. His heart is not immune to the ache that rifles through his body as he considers that she may not bring the news he wants. He clenches his jaw painfully in an attempt to suppress his emotions and bring himself back to the moment at hand.

A soft 'hello' is all she can manage as she stands expectantly at the door. She's more anxious than she ever thought she would be, and her attempt to bury the chilly waves of nervousness that wash over her only seems to be making it worse. Her weight shifts between feet as she pulls the ends of her sleeves over her knuckles as if they will offer some protection from the emotional task at hand. She wraps her arms around her center, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to slow her heart.

"Hi," he answers back.

Her eyes note the keys and phone in his hand. She looks down, feeling stupid for not calling him first to make sure he would be there. But after almost a week, she has finally worked up the courage to talk to him, and she knows if she had thought, no, _obsessed_ about it anymore she would certainly be deemed certifiable.

"Did I catch you at a bad time? Looks like you're heading out… leaving."

His forehead wrinkles in confusion as he stares at her for a few seconds until he finally understands what she's saying.

He smiles thoughtfully. "Yea, I was."

He takes another step in her direction as she takes a deep breath. Despite her nervousness, she can't deny the feelings of sheer pleasure he draws out, the throbbing deep in her stomach, pulsing, tormenting her.

His look and voice are soft. "As a matter of fact, I was leaving to come see _you_."

She exhales and her heart pounds even harder, the echoes of each beat thrumming through her body. The sick feeling in her stomach is quickly replaced by warmth that spreads all the way to her toes.

His smile grows at the sudden flush that paints her cheeks and at how the corners of her mouth twitch, trying to hold back a smile. He backs away from the door, extending his arm towards the loft in an invitation for her to enter. As she walks by, she notices for the first time what he's wearing and suddenly she feels very amused.

"So you were coming to see me dressed like that?" She raises an eyebrow and smirks a little, motioning to his flannel pajama pants and fitted undershirt.

He looks down and realizes that indeed, he is in his pajamas.

"Well, I was going to put on a coat."

She glances down at his bare feet and smiles a little wider. He catches her eyes and his toes instantly wriggle self-consciously against the hardwood floors.

"…and shoes." He smiles back at her and sees the tension on her face giving way to a bit of calm.

She sits on a barstool in the kitchen and turns back to face him, wondering what he thinks of her showing up like this. It's after midnight and if she takes the time to think about it logically, she can't believe she picked this time of night to pay him a visit. She had been lying in bed wide awake for almost an hour, a torturous replay of every night since she has last seen him, his words soft blows to her heart as they played on a loop in her mind. Even now she can feel them.

"…_that small part of you that still doubts, that runs…that's been unsure…I'm sorry, we can't…"_

She finally had decided that there was no point in thinking anymore, action was required. She is sure of what she plans to say, but very unsure of how he will take it, if it will be good enough.

He watches her patiently, weighing whether he should say something first or wait for her to speak. He sees the wheels turning, her brow slightly furrowed, her fingers playing with a loose string on her sweatshirt seam. He starts to feel a little panicked at the length of silence. After four seconds of quiet most people feel uneasy, and right now they're easily treading on ten.

"How've you been doing?" she asks cautiously. She knows it's a loaded question. He could take it as just an icebreaker or things could get heavy quickly. He opens his mouth, but pauses at the programmed responses his brain generates.

_Fine_. _Not too bad_. _Okay_.

But these generic words are meant for those that don't truly care about the answer and as he looks into her haunting eyes, he knows she needs the truth. His face falls instantly as his true feelings run through his mind.

_Terrible_. _Heartbroken_. _Devastated_. _And you_?

"It's been…" _No_. He pauses, swallowing hard. This is personal. "_I've _been… incredibly… miserable." His voice falters slightly, but he continues, "Broken really."

It's the god's honest truth, and while it hurts her to hear, somehow she almost feels relieved at his admission. It means he hasn't given up, it means she matters. In some warped way they've still been going through this together.

He struggles to keep from saying more, knowing that it's her decision now. He almost wants to caution her, tell her that whatever she decides is pretty much going to make or break him, that she is master of his fate now. He silently prays that she will be forgiving of his previous hesitations. His pulse beats wildly as he fears the worst, a swarm of insecurity circling his mind. The room takes on a startling spin. If she's come here to tell him that this just won't work, that she's still with _him_… Now a full-blown panic fills his body, beads of cold sweat escaping on his brow.

She makes eye contact and finally offers up her side of things.

"Me too." She diverts her eyes, studying the floor intently. "I…I can hardly sleep with the way we left things." She shakes her head as she feels her emotions getting the best of her, the grain of the hardwoods suddenly losing definition through her now watering eyes.

He walks to where she sits on the barstool, stopping only when his upper legs meet her knees. She leans forward on the stool and closes her eyes, letting her head fall forward against his chest for a moment. She breathes in and unconsciously smiles at his scent escaping through the cotton fibers of his shirt. His hands find her shoulders and squeeze gently, attempting to massage the worry away. With this reassuring touch, the rest of her words come more easily.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said over the last few days, and I can't lie, it's been frustrating." She feels his hands still, his breathing halts and she looks up as he withdraws his arms and they fall back to his sides slowly. She closes her eyes, wanting him to hold her so badly her body shudders. Instead, he searches her face in silence as she continues.

"How you want me to be so sure about just the _idea_ of us. You want it all to be so certain. But that's not how life usually goes. We're not in one of your books, where everything's all planned out- beginning, middle, end. And I kept thinking about what being a cop has taught me: Life, people- they're unpredictable. Hell, look at _us_. I've thought for the longest time how we don't make any sense together."

He breaks eye contact and he pulls back slightly as his heart sinks a bit, disappointment starting to creep onto his face. He's not sure he wants to hear anymore, but he stands firm, bracing himself for what may come next. She notices his posture and grabs his hands suddenly, preventing him from moving further away. She smiles timidly, standing and trailing her fingers lightly up and down his forearms before breaking contact. They both feel a tugging in their gut, like some invisible rubber band strung between them that is stretched taught, almost to the breaking point. At any moment the potential energy between their bodies threatens to either fling them apart with a snap or crash them together with equal intensity.

"So that's why this has all caught me a bit off guard, because although you were _completely_ unexpected…" She smiles freely, the happiness she finally feels almost overwhelming her, "… somehow, you've managed to become the most _certain _part, the _best _part of my life."

She searches his face and raises her eyebrows a bit in anticipation of his reaction.

"What I'm saying is, I want to do this. I want to _be_ with you." She looks down briefly and then finds his eyes again, finishing with a subtle tone of confidence, "I'm all in."

He doesn't respond immediately, his brain slowed by the stress of the moments leading up to this. She wrinkles her brow and dips her head a bit with a questioning look. His normally expressive face is almost blank and she wonders what else she can do to make him see. The apprehension starts to mount within her.

"I don't know what more I can say to make you…"

At just that moment, the energy between them releases swiftly and he pulls her close, her voice silenced by the crush of his embrace. Her arms snake around his waist as she tumbles slowly from her adrenaline high, her body relaxing into his. The once awkward silence transforms into simple serenity as they hold each other, relishing this bit of physical closeness they've both so desperately needed.

He loosens his hold and peers down into her face for a moment then brushes his lips against her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw line before finally settling on her lips, kissing her tenderly. She returns the kiss delicately, realizing for the first time how soft his lips feel against hers and a small sigh of contentment resonates in her throat. He can't help but smile at her reaction as he continues to enjoy every nuance of how her mouth moves against his. The kisses come naturally, their lips slowing and quickening, softening and deepening to some mutual unspoken pace. He suddenly feels her pressing, swaying against him, her pure instinct to be closer undeniable. He feels a throbbing in his groin and pulls back from the kiss with a jolt at how quickly she has aroused him. She smiles back knowingly and nuzzles her lips against his before he breaks the silence.

"So if it wasn't clear by that kiss, I'm all in too," he says, the trademark twinkle in his eye only rivaled by the glowing smile plastered across his face.

"Well, I assumed as much," she says biting her lip coyly. She really wants to continue kissing him, feeling that it's almost a necessity at this point. Her tongue flicks her lips subconsciously and with this single movement she lassoes him back in. He cups her face, unable to resist the sight of her very pink and slightly swollen lips. He walks her back to sit on the barstool, standing between her thighs, tasting her again and again. His hands come to rest on her upper leg, thumbs rubbing delicately along her inner thigh causing her to wrap her ankles behind his knees, forcing him closer between her legs. His hands cautiously glide upwards, gripping her hips and then sliding under her sweatshirt and camisole to test the skin of her lower back. She arches at the sensation as his relatively cool hands meet the warmth under her shirt. She suddenly tugs his lower lip into her mouth, biting down softly, wanting more. He happily obliges her, extending his hand past the waist of her pants, one set of fingers massaging the sensitive area where the flesh thins just above her tailbone, the other hand climbing her back, changing course suddenly to float over her ribs and finally arriving just below the soft rise of her breast.

She gasps into his mouth, her body jerking suddenly. He smirks a bit at how easily he elicits this reaction from her, his hand slowly retreating back down the curve of her torso. She takes this opportunity to nip at his neck, her mouth exerting just the right amount of pressure as she kisses the hollow of his neck. He feels the slightly uncomfortable tug on the inside of his pants and smiles at her in wonder, realizing that she too is playing her seduction cards expertly and to her credit, without any sleight of hand.

They both are breathing heavily as he pulls her back into a warm embrace, kissing her forehead, both smiling at the state they have worked each other into. The physical energy has also fed the emotional side of things and he struggles to put into words just what he feels.

"I'm glad you're here... with me," he murmurs after their breathing has returned to a normal rate. He grabs one of her hands and slides her off the stool. Exhaustion suddenly battles with excitement as her second adrenaline rush of the night clears from her bloodstream. She glances at her watch seeing that it's nearly 1 AM.

"It's pretty late. I should probably get going soon," she says with a hint of regret as he caresses the back of her hand.

"What? Nuh-uh. It's dangerous for you to be traipsing across town at this hour," he says seriously and with an authority that surprises her. Her eyebrows raise and she cocks her head a little.

"Well, I made it over here at this hour okay, didn't I? I can take care of myself just fine," she says with a dismissive tone, subconsciously reaching to her waist for her gun and realizing that she has forgotten it at home in her haste to talk to him. She frowns a bit as he pulls her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"See? I now know for a fact after you're not wearing your gun under there." He smiles playfully and takes this opportunity to slide his hands up under her sweatshirt again with lightning speed, giving a quick squeeze to her hips for emphasis. "So nope, not leaving," he says, dropping a quick peck on her lips.

She wriggles a bit and sighs as he only tightens his hold on her. She looks back up at him with one eyebrow raised in half-hearted annoyance.

"I'm out in this city all the time at night and in neighborhoods far worse than this. Plus, I'm trained in martial arts and lest we forget I am a _cop_?" she says with a playful defiance.

His face is suddenly serious. "Yes, but you're something else now too," he says as his hand cups her face, his thumb stroking her cheek gently.

The warmth of his eyes and hands force her eyes shut for a split second before she murmurs, "Oh? And what else am I?"

He kisses her softly, whispering into her lips, "You're _mine_ to worry about."

Normally her hair would bristle a little at such a statement of possession, but instead the emotions she feels bring gooses bumps to her arms and an unfamiliar tug to her heart. She's always been hesitant to think of herself as someone's anyone in such an intimate way and she knows it's because, until now, she's never _wanted_ to have that emotional dependence on anyone or have anyone expect the same from her. She angles her head towards him, her lips twisting into a smile.

"Yours, huh?"

Her eyes shine expressively and he nods, answering her with another barely-there kiss. The same taste and smell and feel of her that had him so stimulated now relaxes him completely, and from the way she unwinds into him, turning her head to rest on his shoulder, the feeling is mutual.

"Let's go to sleep," his voice low and inviting in her ear. She turns and looks at him skeptically and he catches her hesitation. It's not that she's really opposed to continuing this little dance in his room, but she also knows her body and surprisingly the desire for sleep is winning out over anything more intimate at the moment.

He rubs small circles on her back, unable to believe the words that he says next. "I mean sleep as in sleep-sleep, as in we both have been to emotional hell and back and we need to recharge. That's all- I promise."

She bites her lower lip in momentary consideration, but the mention of sleep combined with the ungodly hour has put her in some sort of trance-like state, and before she knows it, he's already leading her to his room. While he turns down the light, she pulls off her sweatshirt, revealing the soft camisole underneath before she slides under the sinfully high thread-count sheets that feel more like liquid than cloth against her skin. He chuckles a little as he nears the bed, seeing the shape of her body on the side nearest the window, a pink hue cast upon her by the light as it creeps past the burgundy curtains.

"You're on my side of the bed you know," he jokes softly as he climbs on the opposite side of the mattress and pulls the duvet over them. She grabs his hand under the sheet and tugs gently.

"You're going to have to learn to share," she says, already sounding groggy. "Come here." She pulls him close to her, their legs and arms intertwining.

They are both still aware of the other's heart beat, steady and sure, as sleep finally takes them, gently and completely.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, everyone. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. A million thanks to everyone reading- the response has been overwhelming!**

**Also, I have a little epilogue of sorts swimming in my head, the 'M-part' of this story if you will, that may eventually get written, but I also like how this stands as it is right now.**

**On another note- ****"Countdown" was truly great, even if I was sad to see DMB (Dr. Motorcycle Boy aka Josh) back in the picture. D**on't know about you, but March 21st seems way too far away right now! 


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**This is the 'M' of the story. There. You're warned.**

He wakes with a start, sitting straight up in bed. His mind is still foggy from sleep and for a moment he's slightly disoriented. Then he remembers: he had a dream about her. Well, truthfully, it was a nightmare. In the dream, she had fallen asleep in his arms, but when he had woken up she was gone. He had searched and searched for her- in his loft and her apartment, at the precinct and her favorite coffee shops, but she had simply disappeared, vanished. His heart still races from the residual panic of the dream and he reaches out for her across the mattress, feeling nothing but cool emptiness.

He rubs his eyes, hoping they will adjust to the darkness and he will see that she is still there, but the bed is indeed empty, and no light escapes from under the closed door to his bathroom. His ears strain, but the loft is silent. Did she even sleep in his bed last night or had he dreamed it all? That question is quickly answered as he slumps back down in the bed, clutching his pillow. The faint floral scent of her shampoo still permeates the sheets, filling his nose and causing his stomach to twist.

He pouts for a few seconds, sighing loudly as he realizes he shouldn't be upset, knowing there's a logical explanation. Of course she's left. She couldn't very well show up at work in his boxers and that ridiculously thin excuse for a shirt that hugged her body perfectly and left nothing to the imagination as he had held her flush against his chest through most of the night. But work or no work, he still wishes she would have woken him before she left.

He rolls over and checks his phone, hoping for a text, but is disappointed yet again. He shoots off a message for her to call him and after a few more minutes pass, he resigns himself to try and go back to sleep. The events leading up to the dream quickly occupy his thoughts.

Last night was supposed to have been their third date, but new information had broken their most recent case wide open late in the day, keeping them occupied until well past their dinner reservation at 8. Riding down on the elevator together as they left the precinct, he had felt an odd mixture of satisfaction and disappointment.

His satisfaction had come in knowing that they had solved their first case since getting together as a couple and that, as far as he can tell, their working relationship has changed only for the better. They truly are more in sync than ever, at times sitting in front of the murder board and exchanging only a few short phrases, single words even, before smiling and heading off to round up a suspect. Of course this almost telepathic communication is earning even more looks of suspicion than normal from their coworkers, but they're usually far too preoccupied with each other to notice.

His disappointment, which truthfully had been small in comparison, stemmed from the fact that he had been looking forward to their date all week, secretly hoping that she would stay the night with him. Then maybe, finally, they could experience the physical intimacy they both have been flirting with since the night she had shown up and uttered those three words that had forever changed his life: "I'm all in."

Not that there hadn't been some decent physical placeholders along the way. After their first date, they had shared a short, but powerful goodnight kiss against her apartment door that had left them both breathless. It had also left her wide awake and feeling frustrated, mainly at herself for not just biting the bullet and inviting him in for a drink... and maybe more. But she had also directed some frustration at him for being so damn considerate; for once, electing not to just barge in as has been his usual pattern with every other aspect of her life over the years. Of course, she didn't _really_ blame him, recognizing her own pattern of fussing over his near constant invasions of her personal space as a likely contributing factor to his lack of further advances.

But more recently, the thought of him pushing the physical a bit had become quite the turn on for her and she was happy to see them gain some momentum with a partially-clothed albeit completely-consuming make-out session on his couch after their second date. At one point hands, mouths, and clothing had flown everywhere before being reigned in by a call from the precinct giving them a new case. Neither had wanted to stop, both slipping back into the passion for a few minutes after the call had come through. But of course she had ultimately been the regulator, having to practically peel him off of her in order to find her shirt. She had been quite amused at his resolve to continue with his exploration of her body, proceeding to pin her back on the couch more than once as she attempted to get dressed. Of course he had finally relented, marveling at how she made the act of redressing more seductive than he ever thought possible, bestowing him with a kiss on the mouth for each button that she simultaneously fastened on his shirt.

But by the end of that night he had nevertheless been frustrated. He felt slightly guilty for being so useless at the crime scene, but all he could think about was how he could still smell her perfume on his skin, still taste her on his lips. He had expected her to reprimand him a bit when she had picked up on his defeated frown, but instead she had given him the quickest of winks when she caught him staring at her longingly.

When they had finally wrapped up at the scene, he felt so tormented that it had taken all his will power not to throw her over his shoulder and tote her back to the loft to pick up where they had left off. But of course he knew she would never tolerate being thrown over any man's shoulder, and instead he had tried his best to not appear disappointed when she had dropped him off back at his place before heading home for some much needed sleep.

Then there had been last night, spent over lukewarm Chinese food as they sifted through evidence at the precinct. He had suspected that this third "date" would end no differently than the second, and that both would say goodnight and return to their own beds once again. So, it was more than a pleasant surprise when she had looped her arm through his after leaving the precinct and said, almost shyly, that she wanted to come over.

"Is that alright with you?"

He had simply grinned. As if she would ever have to ask.

Of course they had both been tired and so he had been truly content just to have her fall asleep in his arms again, her body relaxed and completely at home against his.

He sighs sleepily as he rolls onto his back, resigned to the fact that he'll need to be content in that memory of holding her, at least for now. His mind quickly drifts back to that transitional world between sleep and wake, and shadows of his dream float behind his drooping eyelids. Much to his astonishment, he starts to feel a pleasant twinge growing in his gut which quickly marches lower, tugging at his groin. Apparently, his nightmare wasn't all bad.

His stomach muscles clench as he sees her face, framed beautifully by her hair. She hovers above his naked body, straddling his waist, pressing against him firmly. He can feel the softness of her skin as his hands slide up bare thighs to slip under the strip of lace that covers her center, his fingers moving closer to the store of warmth and pleasure she holds. He senses her body shifting so that his hand will have better access and she gasps as he replaces his fingers with his rigid…

He clutches the pillow tightly as he abruptly awakens from his fantasy-to-end-all-fantasies. The soft click of his bedroom door closing is followed by footsteps and his heart soars a little as he feels the mattress move as she slips back into bed carefully, pulling the duvet up over them both. His back is to her as she sidles up against him shivering a bit. He turns to face her, wrapping his arm over her waist and pulling her close, but not too close, as the dream's effects on his body are achingly slow to wane.

"Sorry if I woke you. I went to get a glass of water," she murmurs, feeling her body slowly warming up from both the insulation of the feather-filled cover and the internal heat generated from him being so near.

"No, it's okay. I was awake…sort of…" He knows his voice sounds tense, which is fitting considering the strain her proximity is exerting on his lower half. He forces his brain to focus on the woman in his arms instead of the more naked version of her still teasing him in his head. He breathes deeply, hardly able to stand being this close and not touching more of her.

He distracts himself by concentrating on her breathing and smiles, recognizing that she is already slipping back into a light sleep, the rhythm of the rise and fall of her body somehow familiar to him despite this being only their second night to share together. He feels himself starting to regain control and smiles at how every fifth breath or so, she inhales more deeply and he feels her breath tickle his neck.

He turns slowly so that he can study her face in the shadows, gently pushing her hair aside as his thumb traces her jaw, pausing at her lips before continuing his reverent caresses of her neck and collarbone. He replays his emotional journey of the last few weeks, hell the last few months, knowing that she was with someone else, and now all he can feel is grateful and slightly intimidated that this wonderful woman has even considered being with him.

He sighs softly, knowing he won't sleep anymore tonight. He doesn't want this night to end, doesn't want to wake up and find her gone. He watches her sleep peacefully and, not wanting to wake her, yet unable to avoid the temptation of her mouth being mere inches from his, he leans in to carefully brush his lips against hers- once, then twice. On the second pass, he smiles, welcoming the feel as she responds to his touch, her hand creeping behind his neck to pull him in for a quick, but deep kiss.

She pulls away slowly, her mind still half drunk with sleep but her body feeling more alert by the second as his hand has somehow found its way to the bare skin of her arm, rubbing soothingly. "Why are you still awake? Is something wrong?" she asks.

He shakes his head. Nothing is wrong. If anything, it's too perfect, too much like his dream before it morphed into the nightmare. "I just can't sleep," he says as she nuzzles her body closer.

He can see the dim morning light dancing in the dilated pools of her pupils just before she kisses him again, whispering into his lips, "Hmm… why?"

He doesn't want to tell her about the nightmare of her being gone or, for that matter, the fantasy part with her essentially naked body on top of him. But he needs to share at least the gist of his emotions with her.

"It's going to sound ridiculous, but this, you being here with me, it all feels like a dream. I'm a little afraid I'll wake up and find you've changed your mind about me... that you'll be gone," he says meekly.

She smiles at his little admission of insecurity. It's been rare for her to see him so vulnerable and for some reason she finds it incredibly sexy. She kisses him reassuringly on the lips, at the same time bringing his arm over her waist so that she can wedge herself closer to him. She brushes his hair back from his forehead tracing his cheek with her finger, looking at him thoughtfully. She knows she hasn't made it easy for him to get inside her walls over the years, nevertheless she thought if anyone would house the uncertainty in their relationship, it would be her. But surprisingly, each day with him only makes her more confident in his feelings and intentions. Now she wants to do the same for him.

"Well, I assure you, it's no dream. I'm here." She sits up a little, leaning her torso on top of him so she can better see his face.

"And I'm not going anywhere. I only want you," she murmurs as her head dips lower, their eyes locking just before their lips. Over the past few weeks she's quickly discovered that he is devastatingly talented with his mouth and pulsations rake through her with the thought of him using these talents elsewhere, hell _every_where, on her body.

Her fingers trace along his chest and stomach, catching the hem of his shirt and pulling it up as her nails graze his skin lightly. She allows her hands to dip lower, briefly encountering the waist of his pajamas and tugging gently at the elastic, causing his heart rate to accelerate before he grabs her hands. He pauses, considering how best to express his near inability to hold back his hunger for her any longer. If she doesn't already sense it, she might as well hear about this happy madness stirring inside him.

"Deep down I know that, I do," he says softly. He cups her cheek, feeling the warmth of her lips as she turns her head and softly kisses his palm.

"And I know neither of us is talking just in the physical sense... But god, I've got to say, you have no idea how much I want you. Being this close to you, holding you...the temptation for more is just... Indescribable." He rubs his finger along her cheek tenderly, "But, I don't want to rush this. You're so worth the wait..."

She studies him for a second, realizing that he's leaving her an out if she's not ready. But hearing how he feels causes every nerve fiber in her body to ignite with anticipation and need. Her heart thumps wildly as she thinks about the intense emotional heights they've already reached, but how she too wants more.

The increasing light of dawn illuminates her features softly now and he doesn't need to hear her voice to know. He can see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she now traces his lips with hers. There's no sense in talking anymore, in trying to pin down what cannot be captured with words; no sense to resist this attraction that's endured from the beginning, patiently bearing witness to all they have become.

They already appear to move as one as she shifts quietly to lay back on the mattress, his figure shadowing hers as he maintains their kiss, coming to hover over her. She feels her entire body fill with warmth as he gently strokes her cheek with one hand, softening the kiss to say her name longingly between breaths.

She answers his calls, guiding his full weight down upon her, feeling him smile against her mouth before sliding his tongue along her lips and deepening the kiss. Even fully clothed, she loves the feeling of him on top of her. She can feel how his stomach muscles clench when she brings his lower lip into her mouth, nibbling softly. And how his breathing becomes uneven as she snakes her hands under his shirt, before trailing her nails down his back with enough pressure that in other circumstances it might be considered cruel. Or how his breathing nearly _stops_ as she rocks herself gently against his thigh which now rests between her legs.

But both are soon breathing quite heavily, bodies unconsciously straining through their clothing, as if the friction will somehow cause the fabric to disintegrate, allowing skin to finally meet skin. Her mouth breaks from his, finding his earlobe as her hands graze down his torso, one hand sliding past his waistband and teasing his growing need for her through the fabric of his pajamas.

He feels himself swell instantly, and knows he needs to change the focus to her or she'll end him before he even gets started. He grabs her hand, pinning her wrist above her head, but she only bites her lip playfully as he feels her other hand heading south. He quickly controls this hand as well, holding it against the mattress by her side, before turning the tables on her and kissing her into submission.

He starts with her neck, caressing her slowly, feeling how her body trembles, how her hips press upwards, encouraging him as his mouth hits just the right spot. She marvels a bit at how in control he seems despite the ever hardening presence that she feels every time her hips meet his. She wills him on with soft sighs of pleasure as his mouth continues its torture, her skin twitching at the delicate pressure his lips exert on her breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt.

He releases his hold on her, his hands sliding under the soft shirt that clings to her figure, fingers slowly shifting it upwards. Her body jerks suddenly as ripples of arousal course through her from the soft touch of his hands. His lips forge a tingling trail as they follow the retreating border of fabric between them, delivering feather-light kisses to each new centimeter of skin that is revealed.

He pauses, his hot breath teasing against her skin before he slowly exposes one breast, shifting the fabric so slowly that she finds herself gripping the sheets tightly at the light friction created against her flesh. To her surprise, a soft whimper escapes her mouth as he traces the skin around her nipple with his tongue, blowing softly against the moistened skin causing the soft peak to harden just before taking it into his mouth greedily, causing her to shudder from head-to-toe with pleasure. He eyes the other side, pulling her camisole off completely before repeating his tongue's taunting little act on the opposite breast. Even though she knows what's coming, it doesn't stop the sudden arch of her back and darts of pleasure that shoot down her spine.

Before her body has even registered what's happening, he pulls his shirt over his head and settles back against her, savoring the feel of her pert nipples against his bare chest. He grins down at her, clearly taking pride in her enjoyment thus far. She lifts her head to kiss him, but he pulls his head back playfully just as she remembers that her hands are now free. Her fingers suddenly knead into the back of his neck, bringing his mouth back into range as she kisses him hungrily, desperately seeking more.

He loves how she seems to crave him as much as he does her and sensing this need, he moves his weight to rest on the mattress before he slides the boxers she wears over her hips and she quickly shimmies them down her legs and off completely. His hand trails just below her navel and dips teasingly, ghosting past the lacy top of her underwear, the pads of his fingers massaging the soft skin above her pubic bone. He feels her pressing into his hand, one finger slipping lower to find her clit easily, and he hears her breaths shorten immediately.

His finger is nimble against her, moving so lightly over her sensitized nerves that it's almost painful. As he continues his passes over her burning center, he slips the end of one finger inside her cautiously, and he almost loses it right there when he feels how wet she has already become.

He doesn't want to tease her, but he knows the first time she climaxes, he wants to share the experience in a slightly more intimate way. He reluctantly removes his hand and moves it back to cup her breast, his lips settling on her neck.

As she feels his hand move back up her body she makes a sound, equal parts excitement and exasperation. Her fingers dig into his arms as she feels almost crazy at how he torments her, and he can't help but chuckle a little at this, seeing as how he's usually been the one on the receiving end of the flirting and teasing over the years.

"Patience..." he whispers, sucking delicately on the pulse point of her neck, his mouth gliding down to her breasts once more. "I'll get you there, trust me."

His body shifts, and no sooner are the words out of his mouth than his hands are sliding the last of her clothing off and his lips are caressing the inside of her thigh, feeling her leg muscles flex and then tremble beneath his touch. He tastes her delicately at first, using the tip of his tongue to trace every soft crease, arriving at her most sensitive spot and establishing a rhythm with his tongue and mouth that soon generates a throbbing pressure that she feels between beats of her already racing heart. His eyes dart up in time to see her choke back a gasp as he nudges her legs apart slightly, allowing his tongue to delve deeper as the pent up energy washes over her, ending with a shudder against his lips.

He scoots back up on top of her, admiring the glow he has helped to paint on her cheeks. He brushes his mouth against her neck as she recovers, humming a bit as he savors the hint of saltiness in the fine sheen of sweat that now coats her skin. Her arms suddenly loop around his torso, pulling him tightly against her as she grips his hips between her thighs, making it quite clear what she wants next with the rocking of her body. The fiery need in her eyes is unmistakable and he's a bit taken aback by her voracity, although he's definitely not complaining.

She rubs her hands across his chest as she whispers, "Please..."

He swallows hard because he realizes he has never, nor will he ever again, hear such raw desperation in her voice.

"Before we go any further," he breaks away from her embrace, starting to reach towards his nightstand, "Gimme one second to find a con-..."

She takes his momentary distraction as an opportunity to get him out of the rest of his clothing and he nearly jumps off the bed as one of her hands swiftly skims the muscles of his lower abdomen under his pajamas to grip his erection firmly, the other pushing the flannel pants down his legs.

He watches as she loosens her hold, trailing her fingers cautiously along his smooth length several times, before encircling his head and applying an exquisite pressure that causes his eyes to narrow and his jaw to clench. She finds his mouth with hers, pulling his lower lip into his mouth sucking hard before, releasing his lip and his cock suddenly. He sucks in a breath and wills himself not to explode right there.

She wraps her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer, unable to control her need any longer. His mind can't form coherent thoughts at the moment, he's sure of that, so he's grateful that she knows what he had planned to say and that he's able to decipher the meaning behind the choppy phrase that somehow escapes through the passionate kisses she layers over his mouth.

"Pill-tests-okay...you?"

He slowly rolls her beneath him, his reply a nod of the head sealed with a kiss. Time seems to slow as their eyes lock and her body stills as he eases into her, their gaze never breaking. In this moment, all lingering doubts vanish. What they share in their hearts, thoughts, and now their bodies is real and all consuming.

Neither moves at first, both too absorbed in the simple pleasure of being so close to the other. He takes a moment to adjust to the feel of her body, allowing gravity to pull him deeper as she relaxes a bit with each breath. His forehead leans against hers, and their eyes flutter shut as he adjusts his weight and begins to rock slowly with her. The feel of her around him, her taste that remains on his lips, her subtle whimpers all make his head swim.

They increase the tempo now and he murmurs her name with such affection that her eyes flip open in utter shock at the sudden sensation that grips her entire body, the squeezing warmth finally arriving at her heart, causing a raw sensation in her throat and a burning in her eyes. She's never felt this sort of thing with other men before, and certainly never during sex.

Although he knows she hasn't peaked, he senses a difference in her movements and his eyes open to meet her gaze that is filled with a satisfied look of something that can only be described as wonder. She smiles lovingly before she pulls him deeper wrapping her legs around his waist with a subtle tilt of her hips. He groans loudly at the sudden friction, but recovers quickly, reestablishing their earlier pace. He needs something to sustain him and his mouth seeks out skin, arriving at the slope of her left breast. He's suddenly aware of her heart beating against her chest wall and this forces him, against the ferocious will of his body, to slow his movements.

"I've wanted this for so long," he says with a steady voice as he covers her heart with his hand and meets her eyes again. She feels the tight squeeze around her chest for the second time, and though still surprising, this time she's sure only he will ever be able to recreate this feeling inside her.

Instinct takes over again as he continues to guide them to their end, pressing her more firmly against the bed with ever quickening strokes. Their lips meet surely, fingers intertwine, both determined to hold on together until the last moment possible. She breaks first, gasping sharply at the mind-numbing heat that shoots through her core, yanking her across the line. He surges moments later, feeling her hand grip his tightly just before her body seizes him with equal force, pulling him across to join her.

They lay for several minutes, breaths and bodies entangled, before he moves to lay beside her. He feels her hand still locked with his and loosens her hold to wrap his arm across her stomach, flipping her to face him. Her eyes are closed, but she smiles and exhales slowly as his fingers trace the curve of her waist.

"Don't tell me you're going to fall asleep after that. Isn't that supposed to be my job as the guy here?" he jokes, giving her skin a light pinch. Her eyes pop open and she bats his hand away playfully, shaking her head, but sliding closer to him despite his antics. She smiles shyly at him and he grins back before kissing her lightly.

"I was right you know," he says tauntingly as he shifts his attentions to her neck.

"Oh yeah?" she asks with a slight tone of skepticism. "Right about _what_ exactly?"

He shifts his eyes back to her face, his expression dead serious. "This, you and me, _us_- totally worth the wait."

She feels a surge of emotion causing her cheeks to warm as she hears 'us' escape his lips, amazed by how such a simple word can carry so much meaning.

"Yes, completely," she says nodding her head, kissing him lazily as her eyelids suddenly feel heavy again. She snuggles deeper into the cocoon of warmth their body heat has created.

He kisses her forehead as he feels his own eyes fighting to stay open. "Sleep well."

She sighs contently. "I'm sure that won't be a problem. You've exhausted me you know," she says squeezing him tightly against her. "Sweet dreams."

"Hmm, hope so...what'll I dream about...?" his voice fades a bit as sleep creeps over him.

She whispers over the sounds of his already deepened breathing, "Dream of me, of _us_…"

And when he does, she's there when he wakes.

Always.

* * *

**A/N: **So this is only my second story with smut, always harder to publish than I think it will be, therefore any feedback would be appreciated- the good (hopefully) and not-so-good are equally welcome. I feel like I edited and reread this so many times I can no longer tell if it captures the sexy emotional stuff I was going for, so I'll let you be the judge. Anyway, thanks for reading this! -KB


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